


You're Hunting What? (rewrite)

by ALittleBitofLee



Category: Ghost Hunt, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: But he's there - Freeform, F/M, Lots of dead people, M/M, Maybe like one or two chapters with Masako, More characters added by chapter, No physical manifestations of Death, Possibly Gory deaths of background Characters, but like extras
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 14:09:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16138865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALittleBitofLee/pseuds/ALittleBitofLee
Summary: Harry thought walking through the veil would solve all of his problems. Unfortunately, as Master of Death, he can't die yet; even if he doesn't know it. Follow Harry as enters a parallel universe and lives a life he didn't know he could. M for Death. Romance eventually.





	1. What the Shit was he Thinking?

**Author's Note:**

> It's officially restarted. But I'm not gonna promise consistent updates because I'm honestly shit at those. Feel free to badger me though.
> 
> I'll try not to take too long before Harry meets some major characters. But I'm really loving the planned backstory for this.
> 
> Lee

       It’s not like he had thought about it a lot. It had only really crossed his mind once or twice in the last few months. But as he stood in front of the veil he realized that the thought had been constantly in the back of his mind. He had made it into the Department of Mysteries easily, which meant he had to at least have planned how to get passed everyone without detection. He even remembered specifically pocketing his invisibility cloak on the way out the door this morning. That had to mean he was thinking about this moment. Yet even though he knew subconsciously that this was what he wanted he still baulked at the thought of actually committing suicide.

       Still though, as he stood in front of the veil he couldn’t think of one good solid reason that he should stay alive. He life seemed to be a constant cycle of alright and horrible. Even Ron and Hermione had already moved on. He thought it would take longer to get over war but they both seemed to slip passed the horrible memories and knee grained reactions and start on the path to a fulfilling life. It was only Harry that was stuck. Unable to move forward. Unable to even sleep peacefully through one night since that day back in May. The more he thought the more he realized that all his affairs were pretty much in order. He had even already designated everything he owned in his Will. So, it was with an self-deprecating chuckle that Harry stepped into the veil and came across something completely unexpected.

       He didn’t die.

       He was still alive.

       Still breathing and everything.

       Unless you could still breath while dead?

       Maybe this was what death was like. It’s not like he would know. It was almost similar to the moment he died and was in King’s Cross.  
       He couldn’t help but start to laugh hysterically. It would only follow that Harry bloody Potter would walk into a death veil and be dead and living. He honestly wasn’t sure what he thought would happen in the first place.

       His laughter tapered off as a pervading chill soaked into his bones and he couldn’t help but shiver. He debated going back for the warmth alone but when he turned around he noticed there was no way to get back. It seemed he was in a dim, foggy space that went on endlessly. He tried not to panic but, really, he wasn’t sure what else to do in this kind of situation. Panicking actually seemed the perfect this to do at a time like this.

       Harry spun in circles with his teeth clenched so the bubbling hysteria wouldn’t spill out of him. But no matter where he turned everything looked the same. He closed his eyes to try to calm down and even out his breathing before he passed out in some unknown, possibly hostile, place.

       It was while his eyes were closed though that he heard a voice, seemingly coming from right in front of him. He could almost feel the frigid breath on his cheek, so he jerked his head back quickly. When he opened his eyes to look around though, there was nothing there; he couldn’t even hear anything over the sound of his own heart beating combined with his quick paced breathing.

       Suddenly though, he felt an icicle cold form sweep down his eye lids and he reflexively closed his eyes again to protect them. It was in those precious few seconds that he heard something before he unconsciously blinked his eyes open again. Thinking about it, he sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes again.

       “You cannot hear me when you are trying to see me,’ he heard.

       Harry’s head turned toward the voice and this time he for sure felt that frigid breath of air against his cheek causing his shoulders to jump straight to his ears in a hard jerk.

       “Who are you?” he asked.

       “I have been waiting for you. You have not been receptive to my voice before now,” it answered.

       “Okay,” Harry replied, “but who are you?”

       “I am the end and the beginning. The equalizer and destination of all. I am the reason that breathing each day is a gift and no one has escaped from me,” it responded.

       Harry tilted his head slightly and admitted slowly but grudgingly, “I’m really not the best at riddles.”

       He felt the sigh for all that he hadn’t heard it and resisted the urge to step back, “Yes. I should have known. I am Death,” the now revealed Death monotoned.

       Harry’s shoulders stiffened and this time he actually did step back before he forced himself into a standing position. After all, this was what he had come looking for, wasn’t it? This was the Being that could take him to his family and finally let him rest. Let him move on to something better than what he’s always known and been forced to endure. Not that he regretted living, exactly. But he much imagined that being with his family would make him happier than he could ever have been back in the wizarding world.

       “Are you here to take me? I’d very much like to go,” Harry admitted softly.

       Death almost seemed to hesitate before answering once again in monotone. “Where did you think you would be going?”

       Harry almost glared but his eyes were still closed, so he settled for scrunching his brow in displeasure instead, “To where ever dead people go. Duh.”

       This time for sure Harry knew he had startled Death, even if he couldn’t see anything he practically felt Death’s reaction. “You are not dead. Therefore, you do not have passage into my realm.”

       Harry threw his arms up in frustration, “what the hell do you mean I’m not dead? I’m here aren’t I? What? Am I just stuck living in Limbo or something? How the bloody hell does this death thing even work.”

       “Yes, you are here. But you are not in Limbo,” Death replied. “Human death works by being dead,” he deadpanned.

       Harry almost screamed but he kept his mouth closed and the sound muffled. It probably wouldn’t do to anger Death lest something awful befell him. Besides, with his luck he should have known something like this would happen. Wasn’t the saying in school ‘If it could happen it would happen to Harry’? So, he just took in a deep breath and tried his best to calm down.

       “Ok, so what am I supposed to do now? What do you want from me?”

       Death answered much more quickly this time, “I want you to walk. In whichever direction you would like.”

       “Why?”

       “So that you can continue,” he responded.

       Before Harry could ask what the hell that was supposed to mean he felt a piercing frosty pain penetrate his forehead over his scar. He felt his knees collapse and hit the ground jarringly as he bent over with his hands pressed to his head. He was unaware how long he was curled up on the floor, but when next he was aware of his surroundings, he knew he was alone.

       With his eyes still closed he spoke up anyway, “Hello?” he called. He knew he wasn’t going to get an answer, so he didn’t expect one. Rubbing his scar, he forced himself to stand up anyway.

       Looking around he decided that he didn’t really have much of a choice. It was either start walking or keep standing where he was. As he didn’t want to stand around and wait for nothing, or worse, something, he figured he might as well start walking.

       It felt like eons passed and yet at the same time it was almost like he had just walked through the veil. Nothing changed so he didn’t know where he was going. Not that he even knew what he was looking for. He hoped that he would find something eventually, it didn’t even matter what he found, as long as it was something different from nothingness and fog.

       He walked and walked, dazed and not really looking anywhere at some moments, and at others as though in a hyper focus to everything around him. Eventually he stopped thinking and seemed to just be pulled along in a random direction, not even sure if this was the direction he started out in or if he got turned around and was back at his starting place.

       He was sure he was going crazy.

       Unsure if he was even a person anymore or if he was the fog.

       Unsure if ever he had even existed in the first place.

       But still he walked.

       It was during this unsure period of time, if time was even a true concept, that he noticed a slight lighting in the atmosphere. He wanted to react. He wanted to be happy for the difference in the air. The difference in the atmosphere. He wanted to stop and let out an exclamation of excitement at the change. But even as he finally registered that he was feeling emotion again, and even registering thoughts in his head again, he did not stop walking.

       He finally began to feel tired. As though he could stop at any moment, but his legs just kept going. He tried to keep his eyes open. Tried to register more changes in his surroundings. But as he struggled to open his eyes and keep his excitement up, he knew that he could not control his body. It was only as he started to fall that his body made one last ditch effort to jerk aware, but it failed. He lost consciousness only to thought that even though he was falling, he was still walking.

       And Harry slept.


	2. In Which Harry Knows He Needs Help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This actually takes place over a two day period. It's not mentioned in the story but it starts the morning Harry wakes up and ends the evening of the next day. Day one is all forest.
> 
> Yuuko is not a main part of the story. This is probably the only chapter she will be seen in.
> 
> I'm also still looking for a Beta, especially for consistency, so feel free to volunteer!

                He woke up but refused to open his eyes. He almost thought he was still walking. It had been so long since he had done anything else, and yet it felt like no time had passed at all. He was almost afraid that he was still lying on the floor after the shooting pain in his head. At that thought his hand flew up to his forehead, but he felt nothing. He wasn’t even sure there was anything to feel in the first place. Maybe he dreamed the whole experience up. After all, meeting Death is pretty farfetched.

                But he knew in the back of his head that it really did happen. He just didn’t want to acknowledge it. Because if he did that meant he was somewhere else, and he had no idea what to do. It meant he was on his own for the first time in years, no one to rely on but himself. He could feel the tears beginning to fill his eyes, but he refused to give in. So, taking a deep breath he opened his eyes and promptly choked.

                He had sucked in air so quickly in his shock that he bent over in a coughing fit. He was almost afraid to look around but even looking at the ground in front of him he knew what he saw was real. He was in a forest. As he straightened and looked around he corrected himself.

                He was in a really fucking creepy place filled with trees.

                Some were so close knit and twisted around each other he wondered for a moment how he was supposed to get out of the forest. If the forest even ended. The more he looked around, the more foreboding he felt. The air was stagnant. Did anyone even live in this place? How was he supposed to find civilization?

                The panic kicked in again and he started to hyperventilate. Everywhere he looked was a creepy tree and more creepy trees. Not to mention his new/old best friend fog was covering the ground as far as he could see. Eventually the only thing he saw was black.

 

 

 

                When he woke up again he made sure to keep his breathing even. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed but he figured it didn’t matter because he didn’t even know how long he was asleep after finally leaving the fog. Or how long he was even in the fog, for that matter.

                As he started to think about his situation, he realized that at least was prepared. He still felt his wand holster against his arm and was relieved that it meant he still had his wand. But as he reached for his arm under his sleeve he didn’t feel his wand in the holster.

                He quickly pulled his sleeve up to his elbow and, just as he registered that the holster was empty, he realized that his arm was in pretty bad pain. He was almost hesitant to see what was wrong as he knew he would have to look under the holster and he could feel it sticking to the skin. But this was important, his wand was missing, so he quickly ripped the holster off his arm and tried to cut off the scream of pain to avoid a disturbing the quiet. Before he could do much else, he felt his breath stolen from him in shock once more. There was a glowing feather of fire _inside his forearm. What the Hell?_

                He couldn’t deal with this. Not right now. Shit was already weird, so he figured he better put this thought out of his head and deal with it later. He really didn’t want to pass out again. Instead he reached towards his neck and felt for the pouch he always wore as a necklace. It was a precaution he hadn’t had time to drop since his time spent on the run. He was thankful now as he knew Dumbledore’s old wand was in the pouch. As much as he didn’t want to have to use it, he was aware that he didn’t have very many options at the moment. As his fingers closed around the handle he felt some measure of relief despite his trepidation at having to use the wand.

                He had never used the wand before and, honestly, he thought he never would. It didn’t have a good backstory as far as he knew about Dumbledore, and he never wanted to fall into the mindset of being all powerful and being the foremost authority on anything. As much as he loved Dumbledore, he still considered the man to be a caution against immoral behavior. He didn’t want to manipulate anyone. Ever. And he hoped to never be the man that everyone came to for answers.

               

 

               

                Now that he had the wand in his hand he knew he had to test it out. So he cast the easiest spell he could think of. He held the wand out in front of him and said “Lumos!”

                Really. If he had known the wand was going to try to fucking blind him he would have chosen a different spell. It had been a few minutes and he was still blinking spots out of his eyes. This really sucked. The wand was so damn over powerful that he actually felt slightly winded, from a Lumos! He obviously couldn’t use the wand for every day life. Which, unfortunately, brought him back to the damn feather in his arm. He tucked the knotted wand into the pocket of his jeans and prepared himself.

                He weakly tried to wave his arm while thinking of the light spell and closed his eyes in caution. Then he laughed at himself because he obviously couldn’t see anything. He opened his eyes again as his laughter echoed eerily around him and tried not to shudder at the pervading creepy feeling of the forest. After all, he was doing so well keeping it out of mind.

                As he looked down at his arm in thought, he noticed that the tips of his fingers were lightly glowing. That meant the spell had worked! He was definitely a genius at wandless magic he decided. But now that he knew he could use his magic he wasn’t sure what he should do next.

                It would make sense to leave the forest. Obviously. But what direction was he even supposed to go? How did he know where ever he was even had people? Maybe he was on an alien planet! He remembered something like that from when he was little. Superman or someone was an alien. He even looked like a human, so chances were good he could fit right in.  But the more he thought about that the more he realized how dumb that thought was.  He doubted he could reach another planet by walking there, even if he was in some weird foggy realm at some point.

                At that moment he resigned himself to using Dumbledore’s wand again. Even though it was ridiculously powerful, he figured it would at least be useful for a simple point me spell. And it’s not like he could stay in the forest forever; even with his trusty leather pouch he doubted he could survive on his own in isolation. So he pulled out the weird knobby wand and laid it flat on his palm. The knobs even made it look like it was on a platform as once settled in the dip of his palm.

                Unfortunately, the moment he said the spell looking for the direction to some kind of road the wand flew off his palm and landed feet away. As aggravating as it was at least he knew which direction to go now.

 

 

 

                He was back to walking. Seriously, he almost debated spending the rest of his life lazy and fat if it meant he would never have to walk anywhere again.  But he didn’t really know all the spells to live a comfortable and lazy life like that, and it could be suspicious in the long run. At least this time he knew for sure he was walking under his own power and could decide to stop whenever he wanted.

                It was as he walked though, that he noticed something even creepier than the stagnant air and eerie fog. It was almost like he was seeing people out of the corner of his eye, but every time he turned to look there was no one, just more fog. It was honestly starting to give him goose bumps, so he tried his best to ignore it.

                It was only when he noticed the trees starting to spread further apart, hours and hours after it felt like he had started walking, that he officially saw a ghost. It seemed to be replaying itself, jumping off a branch and swinging in nonexistent wind. He was shocked. At first, he thought someone was committing suicide right in front of him. But when he called out the image repeated itself and the man jumped again. He was frozen in front of the tree as the man jumped over and over.

                When he finally shook himself out of his stupor he deliberately turned his back on the tree and continued in his original direction. People definitely existed in this place, and if it was close enough for someone to commit suicide then that meant he couldn’t be too far away from some kind of civilization. He kept walking.

                When he finally came to the road he was stuck with the same dilemma. Which direction was he supposed to go? He figured either way couldn’t hurt, so he started walking in a random direction. The pavement looked the same, so he concluded he was still on Earth, that meant someone had to drive by eventually.

               

 

               

               

                He ended up getting lucky after an hour or so and getting a ride into the nearest town.

                China.

                He was in freaking China.

                How far away was the UK from China that he was able to walk there? Maybe he walked through the center of the Earth and that’s what all the fog was.

                Someone here should at least be able to speak some English. He knew there were a lot of countries that the UK traded with and English was pretty much a universal language. He should be able to get home fine. He could figure out what to do from there.

                Luckily the taxi system was pretty much the same as back home. Unluckily, he was kicked out of the car when he tried to pay in Euros. That meant he had to pay in Chinese money, whatever that was called. He hunkered down behind a sign and pulled out his invisibility cloak. Maybe if he followed someone around he could figure out how to exchange money, or at least where to go to get some help.

                He really should have chosen better people to follow though, because he ended up in the tube station and he didn’t really want to get on a train. It’s not like he had much choice though. Apparently in China it’s pretty easy to get swept up in the crowd, especially when no one can see you.

                Which is how he ended up in Tokyo.

                As in Japan. Screw China, he was in Japan! Wasn’t that even further away? He knew he shouldn’t have followed everyone onto that third train!

                Even though he knew he probably shouldn’t have, he pulled out the wand again. It made him feel safer. Even if he didn’t know what to do, or where to go, at least he was safe. He slid down the wall between two buildings and put his head in his arms. He really wasn’t sure what to do. When he looked to the side he noticed something though; there seemed to be a walled in house right in front of him. Nothing about it really matched its surroundings. This was yet another moment he felt compelled to walk towards something. But he didn’t try to resist the urge this time, maybe it would be helpful.

                He didn’t even make it a step into the front walkway before both of his arms were grabbed and he was pulled along by two little girls.

                “A customer! A customer,” they chorused.

                “What?” he spluttered.

                “A customer for Mistress!” They continued as they seemingly dragged him inside and through a door.

                When he looked up he saw a woman with long black hair in a robe type dress lounging on a couch and smoking from a pipe. “Ah. A customer,” she said and smiled.

                Harry was confused. “What am I buying?” he asked.

                “A wish of course,” she answered, “that is why one walks into a wish shop.”

                “A wish shop…” he repeated.

                “A shop that sells wishes. You are here because there is something you want. Or is it something you need? All you have to do is pay the price.”

                “What kind of price is good enough for granting a wish?” he asked. After all, there was something he needed.

                “That depends entirely on what you wish for,” she purred as she puffed out another lazy breath of smoke.

                “I need help,” he said. “What’s the price for that?”

                “Ah. Not too expensive. Just the Holly wand,” she replied.

                “What!” Harry exploded. “I can’t just give you my wand! How am I supposed to do magic without it!” He had completely forgotten that just hours ago he had proclaimed himself a wandless magic genius, not to mention he didn’t even have his old wand.

                “Well that’s not true is it? And I’m not asking for the feather. Only the wood that _you_ can’t even use.”

                Harry settled down and thought. “Okay,” he said, “but I don’t have the wand anymore. I don’t know where it is.”

                At this point the woman reached out a hand and gestured to his neck. Harry’s hand automatically flew up to his throat and clutched the leather bag. “Exactly,” she said. “If you’d like your wish granted, kindly trade it over.”

                Still, Harry hesitated before walking closer to the woman. “Just flip it upside down,” she said.

                He was slightly astonished when he did so. His old holly wand slipped right out of the top and into her palm. As she rolled it over her palm he saw the long crack up the side and the hollow emptiness inside.

                “See, you still have the feather,” she cooed as she brushed her hand down his right forearm. “Though it’s pretty unhappy with you at the moment, it’s still there.”

                “What?” Harry startled and jerked back. “This feather is my wand? It’s alive?”

                The woman just laughed. “Of course it’s alive. It came from a living bird did it not? Why wouldn’t it still have feelings?”

                Harry swallowed and pushed the thought to the back of his mind to deal with later. “You can grant my wish now, right? I need help.”

                She chuckled again and gestured for him to follow her out into the front garden. “I suppose you can’t hear it’s voice right now anyway. So, moving on, come stand right here.”

                Harry nodded his head and followed her lead. “Now point your wand straight up at shoulder point,” she continued.

                “It’s not mine. It’s my old headmaster’s,” Harry corrected her.

                Her lips quirked as she hmm’d. “Your old headmaster’s wand then,” she smirked.

                Harry shuddered lightly and made the conscious decision not to ask. He pointed the wand up like she asked and just looked at her.

                “Well, go on,” she said, “ask for help.”

                Harry swallowed and looked up at the sky, “I’d like some help,” he intonated and hastily tacked on a “please.”

                In no time at all he was back on his knees, having felt a smack against the back of his leg. “Potter!” he heard.

                The woman laughed loud and outright. “There you go,” she said and walked away. “The way out was the way you came in,” she called back, “pleasure doing business.

                He hadn’t so much as blinked before he was looking at the childish face of his old potion’s professor while kneeling in the middle of a busy sidewalk.

                So much for leaving the shop.

 


End file.
